Chino's sound system was a siren's call to guide us home, dialed in like the Lewis Carroll-inspired clock-adorned DJ booth.

We were participating in a long-running psychedelic and spiritual experiment proven to shed years of societal shackles.

Who needs worldly amenities when the universe gives you a glimpse of infinity?

Lightning in a Bottle returned with a reduced capacity but a vast and diverse lineup — and, as it has for a decade and a half, the chance to leave the world of mundane distraction and instant gratification behind for almost a week. There is a carefully orchestrated method to its madness, from the menagerie of colorful characters parading about the grounds to the decadent decorations adorning every tree, hillside and false façade.

The ever-evolving floral crown adorning the DJ booth is a morphing art installation itself that is seemingly representative of some extraterrestrial stargate. The collision of sight and sound hugged the crowd tightly throughout the weekend and refused to let go. If the ’80s-neon-meets-Madmax-desert-dominatrix dress code wasn’t enough to tantalize your freshly-cleansed third eye, the fire dancers, spinners and breathers did the trick.